Defiance
by justsomeboy
Summary: Casper isn't stupid, and knows when to pick his fights. And Vulpes Inculta has a war waiting for him, when he aims to break the spirit and body of the damnably defiant Courier Six.
1. Chapter 1

a/n - this will be continued if anyone has interest.

It had all happened so quickly.

Casper had been walking through the Mojave – towards Nipton – when he saw the smoke. He felt a tinge of concern, but what he felt was more like eager glee at the thought of being able to plunder another Legion-burned town. Those bastards never realized what favors they did him.

He changed into something less obviously battle-ready – the Brahmin skin was soft against his body as he walked towards the buildings. He carried only a single nine-millimeter pistol, and it would have to be enough for now; but trepidation grew as he realized that the Legion was still here. He attempted to keep walking – to make it seem as though he hadn't seen anything, but they were quicker on the uptake than he hoped (wewn't they always) and, being intelligent, despite what some would have said, he didn't protest being dragged before the man in the coyotes' hood, forced down to his knees, looking up through messy, electric blue hair.

"Another profligate, Vulpes." The voice had the strangest accent, and Casper looked up into dark sunglasses and pale skin – almost as pale as his own. He never colored, somehow; never tanned, despite all of his time in the sun. He was the color of milk, with eyes the color of cornflowers and lips the palest pink. His father had once told him he must be albino, and that his odd hair might have been a mutation, since it grew out of his head that color, always had.

"Ah." Vulpes Inculta reached to take the slender jaw in one hand; jerking the couriers' head from side to side, opening his mouth as though he was some kind of farm stock for sale; a hand through hair, feeling out the muscles over shoulders and neck. "He will make a good slave."

It was then that Casper started to fight; he wasn't very strong, but he twisted and wiggled and tried to get out of the grip until the butt of a machetes' hilt was slammed down against his temple, and as the world started to spin and fade from view, he heard a smooth voice chuckling into his ear.

"What a gloriously awful run of luck you've had, profligate."

Casper awoke again, strapped down to a bed, with a collar about his throat, choking him. He struggled to breathe and pulled against the buckles holding him down, but the only reward was the sound of that chuckle that had accompanied him into sleep.

"You're awake." The observation was simple and almost personable. Vulpes Inculta was sitting in a chair at his bedside, legs crossed, looking elegant, clean-cut, and rational. He was far cleaner than Casper was; and if the small wrinkle in his nose was any indication, Casper looked – and smelled – worse than he remembered.

"You will be bathed, slave. And then you will be broken."

Casper stared up at him – for a long moment – and then burst out laughing; a gay, amused sound, tinged only with an edge of hysteria, but it was more than enough to set Vulpes on edge.

"You find that amusing, Courier? That soon you will be one of thousands of slaves in service to the great Son of Mars?" Vulpes had a hand in Caspers blue hair, and the albinos' laugh turned into a snarl as he jerked his head around and pinned the Vulpes' wrist underneath his skull.

"I just think it's funny that you think you're going to be able to break me," He replied, all savagely in his slice of a smile, and the Vulpes felt a trickle of anticipation – excitement – run through him. He'd never seen a slave so defiant; even those that pretended at bravery were quickly brought down when confronted the reality of the life they were going to be living. The longer he stared at the slave in incredulity, the more it seemed like his defiance increased tenfold.

This... This was going to be a destruction to remember.


	2. Chapter 2

Vulpes Inculta was… Intrigued.

The bath had been as successful as he had predicted it would be; the profligate fought tooth and nail, snarling as he was tied to a post and doused with cold water – lathered with something resembling soap and the bather had yanked at that dark blue hair in utter disbelief until Vulpes could have sworn that he'd seen tears in those pale eyes, but there hadn't been a word of complaint. If anything, the courier had been infuriatingly determined not to give the Legionaries the reaction they wanted, so when they were done scrubbing him, his skin pink with agitation, he made sure to turn his body and give them all a show.

He couldn't help but stare; such a finely crafted body he hadn't seen in a very long time. Most of the legionaries were muscular, tall and strong; the courier was almost weedy, thin with a flaring pair of hips that got a laugh from a few of the others for his femininity. He was that ivory tone all over; what little pubic hair he had matched the dark blue strands on his head – and his eyes.

Oh, his eyes were… Captivating. So pale, so incredibly pale, and that mouth, like the pink of a weedblossom before it had fully developed. Vulpes Inculta didn't care much what it was that he was on top of, as long as it was attractive and made the right kind of noises.

Courier Six was certainly attractive. But he would have to be broken, before anything else.

The usual procedure was for the women to be caged, and the men put to work; backbreaking labor that would tone their bodies and force them to acclimate to what it was Caesar wanted them to be doing. Vulpes had bagged a favor of Caesar: To break the Courier as he saw fit, starting with first tearing away his pride.

Caesar had indulged his Frumentarii; the profligate hadn't even been dressed yet, when Vulpes grabbed him by wet, dark hair and dragged him along the main path to the tents for all to see; what a beautiful body, what a defiant spirit; he wondered if he would be even more beautiful once that spirit was cracked apart to reveal what softness – what emptiness – lay beneath.

Casper had spluttered through the bath, bit and scratched when he could, but the hand in his hair was unforgiving and unyielding, so he cursed and swore as he was pulled along like a pack Brahmin loaded with goods – not allowing that little niggle of fear to show in his body language or his face, as he was thrown to the ground in a large tent, the sounds from outside muffled to his ears.

He tried to snap a quick comment, but there was a belt being strapped around his head, between his teeth. This room had been prepared for him.

Alerio tightened the buckle at Vulpes' instruction; the five of them in this tent made up the most elite squad of Frumentarii that Caesar had at his disposal – and for now, the five of them were to be rewarded with this gift. The woman they'd had last had been used up weeks ago; they'd had to kill her when she had degenerated to nothing more than a sobbing, heaving mess. She hadn't been anything special, but Alerio could tell, from the look on his superiors' face, that this one was special.

It must have shown in the leaders' body language: because the rest backed off, too, once the profligate was tied and trussed. Legs forced open, arms over his head, he was resting in a sling that allowed him very little – if any – movement, and Alerio had to smile at how those pale eyes widened in confusion. But not fear. How curious.

"Leave us," Vulpes murmured; the other three protested, but left – Alerio had been the last to move towards the exit, when his commander stopped him. "Not you."

A sideways glance told him all he needed to know, and he felt a swell of excitement for himself, and something like pity for this profligate, tied here. Once the Desert Fox had his eye on something, it was rare that he let it go: no matter what it was.

Casper snarled; jerked his head from one side to the other when the rest of his body refused to comply and left him still – hands attached to a post, legs wide open. He'd had sex before – what wastelander hadn't, to be honest – but he'd never been in a situation where there was no chance of getting out of it, if he changed his mind or things got too heavy for him.

That was what made him the most nervous, as he watched Alerio almost reverently undress the Vulpes Inculta, the flaps to the tent tied shut. When the hood came down, it was clear that he had hair as pale as Caspers' skin, and eyes almost the same shade of delicate blue. He watched Casper, as Alerio undressed him; seemed to pay his second-in-command no mind as he was stripped of his uniform.

The courier felt a bit of admiration – it was a beautiful body. Tanned and muscular without being bulky, and there was a strength in his arms that gave away his weapons of choice. Caspers' eyes wandered lower almost without his wishing it – the Vulpes' cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him; long, blushed red, in a nest of pale curls.

"Leave us."

Alerio nodded, bowed. He knew that he would have his turn; the grin he gave the courier as he slipped out of the tent was wickedness given physical expression.

Caspers' breath started to pick up but he still smiled cockily around the belt between his teeth.

Vulpes Inculta wouldn't have had it any other way.


End file.
